Love Conquers All
by beachLEMON
Summary: [NEW EDITION of Love Conquers All updated; unrelated to its precedent]I'm so tired of these DracoHermione cliches. Tired of seeing this EVERYWHERE. But not tired enough to pass up the opportunity to show you what I mean.
1. Beautiful Peoples' Pasttime

This is a tribute to all who don't think that Hermione is good enough to pair with Draco without giving her big boobs, endless legs, revealing clothes and 'long, sleek, shiny hair' that she is to acquire over the summer. I use the word tribute loosely. I'm not trying to offend everyone, but perhaps using four thousand different clichés at once doesn't help a story that one person has read at some point or another in his or her life. 

This is to the authors who feel Hermione needs to completely change over the summer.

_This_ is what I see when I read your magnificent masterpieces:

________

Beautiful Peoples' Pasttime

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and a brand new Hermione Granger flounced across the train station to her ultimate destination: Platform 9 ¾. Reaching the familiar platform, Hermione looked around and bit her lip as she tried to place where her best friends in the whole wide world would be.

Instead, she found the Devil. No, wait—she found Malfoy.

The world instantly froze, all boarding passengers halting their movements in mid-air, whether transporting luggage or not, as Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger locked eyes from opposite ends of the platform. Naturally, there were no people in their way as everyone had cleared out for their obvious showdown.

Hermione Granger—well, the _old_ Hermione Granger—would've backed down at Malfoy's evil attempt to duel her with grueling eye contact, but the new Hermione Granger only looked forward to the challenge. She'd show him who was the boss.

Amidst all the intimidation, though, Hermione's eyes couldn't help but drift over the indulgent body Draco had grown to inhabit over the years. Although they did have Double Potions _constantly_—as if there were any other classes besides Hagrid's ever-dangerous Care of Magical Creatures—she hadn't noticed his bulging biceps, toned chest, and mouthwatering six-pack until she got a good glimpse of him at that very moment. 

Quidditch had been _good—to—him_. Of course, he was the seeker, so the bulk of his training was riding a broom, essentially whisking through the air effortlessly as he and Harry were known to do, but that didn't matter because _somehow_ the Gods looked down upon him and graced him with these bulging, attractive, oh-so-gorgeous muscles that were practically invisible before. How could she have missed them?

And then she noticed his hair. He'd stopped gelling it back when he'd renounced his ferret title—which was still held in reserve for the utmost dis if the situation _really_ required it—and had grown out his hair instead. Now it fell into his eyes carelessly and constantly although the blonde handled it very well. He never once tripped even though his sexy hair was always obstructing his view of the world.

_Hermione, what are you thinking? This is _Malfoy!_ Malfoy who has ruined your life from the minute you stepped on the Hogwarts Express because you're the famous one, not Harry. No, Harry was simply there for spectacle; they just put up a funny backstory of him being the hero and being a royal pain in Malfoy's and Voldemort's arse for not dying when he was expected to. _You_ were the one he always made fun of on purpose. How he _constantly_ called you a mudblood, although you only have one recollection of it back in Third Year. There _must've_ been other times. I couldn't have blown all of this out of proportion in my head!_

_Oh, but speaking of proportions... Look at how tight that shirt is on him. Look at his brilliant abdomen and toned six-pack!_

_Hermione, stop it! Are you stark raving mad? Are you losing your bloody marbles? He's a villain—a _bad man.

_But he's _so_ irresistable_.

_But he's made your life miserable!_

_Not when he looked _this_ fabulous._

_Hermione, get a hold of yourse—_

_Oh, shut up!_

Back across the platform, Draco Malfoy wasn't having much luck controlling his own mind either. And no, it wasn't schizophrenia as far as he knew. It was simply his eyes telling him he'd hit the jackpot, and the player that he was, he simply _must_ have that girl standing there, looking at him with as much longing in her eyes as he held in his.

She didn't look familiar to him, although her face seemed distinctly familiar. No, if he had even thought once of whom he'd constantly seen in class, laughed at, or generally passed in the halls, it probably would've occurred to him that standing there, her jaw on the floor and eyes gazing at him with lust was none other than 'The Bookworm' Granger, or Mudblood as he preferred to call her. Although he'd only tried it out once.

However, the thought escaped him as he was simply entranced by her beauty and utter sex appeal.

Unknowingly, he was checking out the new and improved Hermione.

Over the summer, she had changed a lot. After tanning on beaches, vacationing with her parents, and generally getting a lot of harmful, UV ray-emitting sun, Hermione had decided that she was tired of being a mousy bookworm and that after all these years, she'd put her good looks to use instead of her brain. Who the bloody hell got ahead in this world with brains?

No, she really had a transformation. 

With a few simple charms and spells—that have only _now_ occurred to her after years of battling bad hair—Hermione got rid of her bushy-haired look and indulged in the sensation of her hair cascading in soft waves down her back. 

Finally noticing the impeccably huge bulge in her chest as a well-stacked rack, Hermione had decided to present herself to all her professors at Hogwarts on the first day of school scantily clad in a tank top that stretched over her ample bosom showing off a good amount of cleavage and over her flat stomach, where it stopped short. Leaving a good six inches of navel flesh showing—completely with an awesome belly-button ring _of course_—Hermione topped off her whole ensemble by wearing the shortest skirt she could find at the Muggle store Abercrombie and Fitch—you know, the plaid one with the buttons on the sides that reach to the top of your thighs if you're lucky and probably served as belt once upon a time but now passes off as a skirt in stores for only $44.99; and _yes_, dollars, because Hermione thought Americans were cool.

Painted toenails and five-inch heels—yes, all this being measured in inches and feet because England doesn't use a silly thing called the metric system—completed her looks as made for a complete knock-out and babe in Malfoy's eyes.

He was sure he'd bed by dinner.

Deciding that he'd better make his move now, he began his slow and steady prowl across the platform which had yet to unfreeze its passengers from their audience position while watching the drama of these two beautiful people play out.

As he finally reached this hot babe and was about to make his move, two heads blocked his way as they bobbed excitedly at obviously seeing the girl in front of them.

"Mione!" they both yelled in unison and nearly strangled her in their bear hug.

Draco's mind whirled—Mione? Mione...Mione...the face...the familiarity of the situation...nope, it wasn't reaching him.

"So how was your summer, Mione? I mean, you've..._changed_," the redhead in front of Draco commented, probably trying not to drool as his eyes bulged out, focusing his gaze just below Hermione's neck.

Hermione smoothed down her hair and looked at her fingernails boredly.

"Yeah, well, I decided it was time that boring old Hermione got a break for a while," she responded evenly before breaking into a big grin. "What do you guys think?" 

Even as she asked them the question, Draco could tell that she was trying to catch his eye as she asked.

Mione...Hermione...

Oh, Merlin, it was _Granger!_

Oh, but how she'd changed.

Draco eyed her appreciatively, his gaze also stopping where Ron's couldn't seem to leave. Her ample bosom. That tight shirt. Legs that went on forever. How she'd changed. How he'd like to—

_Merlin, Draco, that is _Granger_ we're talking about here. Mudblood Granger!_

_Oh, but if all mudbloods had that fine of an ass..._

_Draco, you're from England. Who the bloody hell says 'fine' as an appropriate adjective also categorized as slang but Americans?_

_Shut up, she's fine and I want her. No matter what. _

_No, stop thinking that! She's unworthy of your gaze. She's unworthy of your...your...your air! Look, she's taking up your very oxygen as we speak...and sharing it with Harry Potter and that Weasley boy!_

_Blimey. _

"Well, well, well," Draco snarled, trying to cover up his lusty feelings for the only present mudblood. Although there must have been at least forty present on the platform, to Draco, she was the only mudblood _ever_ and for that, she had to take all the flack for her unfortunate blood heritage. So darn unlucky. "If it isn't Potty, Weasel, and the Mudblood." See? _The_ mudblood. Singular. _The _very _one._ Ooh, danger and contamination ahead.

Harry and Ron both turned to face Draco while Hermione eyed him hatefully, all along trying to hide her very own forbidden feelings as well. 

Meanwhile, Draco's antagonistic efforts seemed to pay off the most with Ron, whom had been huffing, puffing, and steaming in place for a good two seconds with Harry calmly holding him back. Ron's face and ears with red with rage.

"_Shut up, _Malfoy," Ron finally spat, settling on the most profound set of words yet to reach his mind. "And stop looking at Hermione like that. You leave her alone." All about protecting the weak girl. Funny how he hadn't stood up for Harry. But Harry was famous; he could hold his own.

Harry glared evenly for good measure.

"_Yeah_," he added finally, nodding his head as if he'd just solved the world's mystery and was now expected to perform a 'take that' dance.

"You guys go ahead," Hermione ushered Ron and Harry out of the way as her gaze remained with Draco. "I'll handle this."

"Are you sure, Mione, because if he does _anything _to you—"

"If Malfoy lays a _finger_ on you, I'll—"

"_I_ will _handle_ this, _guys_," Hermione emphasized, making her point clear with a flash of her brown, sexy eyes and a flick of her shiny, wavy hair.

"Okay," Harry and Ron recited in unison as they took her trunk along with their own and boarded the Hogwarts Express. The platform had allowed its passengers to move about know, but not within the gaze of Hermione or Draco whom were about to have another very important and steamy showdown, though much closer together now, therefore having no need for everyone to clear out of their way.

"So, got rid of your little boyfriends, now, Mudblood," Draco observed with the raise of an eyebrow. His mouse invaded her privacy as it lowered to her ear. "You can't resist me after all, can you?"

Hermione's mouth watered with him being so close, his scent invading her nostrils, his sexy hair brushing the side of her face. Even his voice was almost enough to make her orgasm. Damn, that man was a sex bomb!

"You _wish_," Hermione retorted, masking her deep-ceited feelings after all. It was the only way. She stepped away from him, although longing for his touch, his lips on her ear, as soon as she couldn't feel them anymore.

"I don't have to," Draco grinned cockily. "You want me. You know you do. I'm a sexy bitch. You know you want a piece of the Draco-meister."

_He's right, I want him. Merlin, look at toned chest practically _begging_ me to suck it and lick it just because his shirt is pulled so tight over it. I don't _care_ if these feelings surfaced out of nowhere, I...I...I can't believe I'm saying this...I, Hermione Granger, love Draco Malfoy._

_What?_

_Shut up. You're me. You're not supposed to be surprised!_

_But...but...but you hate him. You haven't said more to him than angry retorts and sly remarks for six years! How can you love him?_

_How can one _not_ love that sexy bitch, just like he said?_

_He didn't say anything about love._

_Yeah, I added that part in._

_Hermione, you're crazy—_

_Crazy in love! Which is one of my favorite songs, by the way, that I like to play on my enchanted Walkman that I've charmed to work at Hogwarts. On my burned CD, I have "Crazy in Love" as the second track from Beyonce's album, Dangerously in Love, available at Rasputin's and Best Buy for only $21.99. And _yes, _dollars. Again. I don't know why._

"So, finally admitted it to yourself yet, Mudblood?" Draco's voice traveled to her ear in a whisper once more. And although Hermione was not aware of Draco's feelings and he was just teasing her and humiliating her to the best of her knowledge, she didn't care anymore. He was so sexy and changed so much over the summer that it didn't matter if he constantly called her Mudblood, even if he recognized the evil meaning behind it.

She couldn't take it anymore.

But she had to. He couldn't know.

"G-Get away from me, Malfoy," Hermione cautioned, unsure of how long her bravado would last. And the predetorial look on Draco's face didn't help cease her butterflies in her stomach. 

"You don't want me to," he taunted, his voice deep and rumbly and sexy and all of the above. His hair, once again in his eyes, made Hermione want to run her fingers through it like crazy, although it never occurred to her that one receives no real pleasure from running one's fingers through another's hair, especially if it risks getting it dirty and oily and making it look as though Draco never really had abandoned his gelled-back look. _Oh, Merlin!_

"Y-Yes, I...I...do..." Hermione whispered softly. 

"Then why do you want this so much?" he asked, deathy quiet, looking into her eyes hungrily.

She was afraid to ask.

"Want what?"

Her breath was knocked out of her and it took her completely by surprise as Draco suddenly got a hold of Hermione's wrists and pinned them above her head just as he plundered her mouth with his and slammed her against a nearby wall. Any wall. Any convenient, dirty wall. Didn't matter if her revealing tank top was getting dirty. Nope, she probably wouldn't need it after a couple of minutes into the sweaty, yummy foreplay anyway.

Oh, Hermione's thoughts were suddenly blown out of her mind—the small amount that was there to begin with after this summer's transformation. Again, who the bloody hell needed brains in this world?

His tongue, oh that magnificent tongue. What wonders he did to her. It swirved in and out of ever crevice in her mouth, finally catching her own tongue and roughly inviting it for a pleasurable dance and mingle.

Draco's feelings were far less poetic on the matter, though no less meaningful.

Need bed. Wait, Hogwarts Express...Platform 9 ¾. Damn, no bed near. Need closet. Need bathroom. Yes. Bathroom inside Hogwarts Express. Do girl in bathroom. Hot sweaty sex in bathroom. Then all will be well. Her mouth is so soft and hot. Need to do her now and cut it out with these damn games. And it doesn't matter that I never noticed her before the make-up, clothes, and boobs because after the sex, all of a sudden she'll be a hot babe to me no matter what she wears—and that's preferably nothing.

_Hence the original plan: need bathroom to do girl in._

Finally, pulling away and getting the much-needed air that the both of them required, Hermione and Draco stared into each other's eyes meaningfully, panting in each other's faces and pretending like the long silence and panting wasn't bothering either of them, or that the platform wasn't hot enough that each other's breath only made it worse. 

They just stared at each other until the only possible conclusion fled to both of their minds after a kiss like this. It had tongue, emotion, and a _lot_ of tongue. And they were both hot, sweaty, sexy teenagers. There was only one conclusion to end all doubt here that plagued their thoughts:

_I love you_.

At this realization, they both scrambled onto the now tooting and nearly-departing Hogwarts Express, only to stumble into each other in a dark corner and continue more of the staring into each other's eyes and panting into each other's faces.

Ten minutes later, no one could get into a far bathroom down the train's corridor, on the left, as it had been occupied for quiet some time. 

Draco's original plan was brilliant. And everything worked out in the end.

Love conquers all.


	2. Can't Hurry Love

_Summary:_ Don't you hate those Head Boy/Girl stories? Even more than that, don't you think it's possible for Hermione and Draco to plausibly fall in love (even in fanfiction—or more appropriately, _especially_ in fanfiction) without them having to be _forced_ together to the point of obvious legal issues at hand? This is a tribute to those stories that make the two of them share a bed and toothbrush and an ass and whatnot.

* * *

**Can't Hurry Love**

"I can't believe this, Ron. The day I've been waiting for since I was two and half has finally arrived, and I have to share it with _him_," Hermione Granger grumbled, dropping the letter to her lap in defeat.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," Ron sympathized, already getting red from the notion. "I can't believe you're going to have to be Head Girl with _him_."

"I know," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "It should have been Harry."

"Bloody right, it should have," the redhead resounded, before frowning. "Wait, why didn't he get Head Boy again?"

"Oh, because Harry has too much on his plate nowadays, what with Voldemort waiting for his Seventh Year to finally challenge him to a one-on-one duel and the fact that his hormones will be raging like crazy," Hermione explained flawlessly. "Plus, Malfoy has all those grades nearly good enough to rival mine that no one had ever noticed."

"That's right," Ron acknowledged. "I knew there was a memo about that."

"But you know, that doesn't make any of this better," she whined once more, pouting as she looked down at the printed parchment. "I hate Malfoy. I've always hated Malfoy. And now he's stealing _my_ thing. My _thing_—the Head position. The other half of the Head Girl. The ying to my yang. The peanut butter to my jam. The peaches to my cre—"

"'Mione," Ron raised an eyebrow.

"And I never thought he'd qualify for the position!"

"Right," Ron agreed, nodding.

"And I had no _reason_ to believe that he'd qualify for Head Boy."

"Right."

"And I never even _knew_ Malfoy was in the running, what with all with his numerous detentions and threats and stunts on professors."

"Sure."

"And now he qualified—and _won_ the position."

"Right," Ron's brows furrowed again as he looked at Hermione for confirmation that this all made some sort of sense. Unfortunately, the brunette wasn't paying attention as she raised her letter of congratulations to her face, and then tossed it across Ron's room as she flopped back on his bed.

"This year is going to be the worst hell anyone has ever faced and will ever face in the following years to come." She through a pillow over her head. "_Ever_."

* * *

A fork levitated itself in the air carefully, gliding until it positioned itself just so beside the goblet before it started tapping the side of it forcefully. Successfully quieting the dining hall, the fork dropped beside its neighbor, the knife, and waited in silence, along with all the students.

"Welcome, students," Dumbledore started, standing up before the room full of attentive eyes, "to another year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I hope you'll have an exceptional year here and please give a warm welcome to the frightened First Years drenched from the rain outside. It's become a sort of tradition for the rain to be pouring on the first day of school for quite some time now.

"Oddities aside, I suppose it's time to introduce all of our teachers to the new students and to introduce new teachers to the returning pupils," the elderly headmaster rumbled, before turning to his colleagues as the traditional professors' table. "Well, here they are. Lovely bunch, I'll tell you. Just swell."

The teachers' mouths nearly dropped as they noticed that Dumbledore was about to move on from the introductions. Off their upset looks, he returned a kind-hearted smile.

"Of course," Dumbledore corrected himself, "how could I be so silly?" He pointed with his hand, "That one and that one—the navy robe—are new. Welcome. Now, moving onto this year's Head Boy and Girl…"

"Albus," Minerva McGonagall hissed at the speed-talking headmaster. "_Albus_."

"Yes?" Dumbledore ducked down, halting his sentence.

"Don't…" she sighed, "Don't you think it would be fitting to introduce the—the new teachers by _name_ for all the students? Or perhaps introduce the Prefects as well as the Head Boy and Girl to the school, if they must be mentioned at the feast?"

Dumbledore looked in thought briefly. "No. I have reason to believe that nobody cares, Minerva. Now, if you'll excuse me…" he motioned to the shifty looking kids who were already losing interest in the private conversation between the headmaster and some teacher.

"As I was saying, I think it's about time to introduce this year's Head Boy and Girl to the student body," he grinned widely. Suddenly, a near drum roll could be heard as Dumbledore paused for dramatic effect.

"When did we get a band?" Snape whispered to no one in particular as he looked up from his mashed potatoes. Madame Pomfrey only shrugged in return.

"I knew," Trelawney answered dreamily, before looking toward her confused colleagues. "About the band; I knew about the band."

"And this year's Head Boy is…" Dumbledore announced, eyes twinkling, "…Draco Malfoy!"

Applause erupted throughout the hall as Draco sauntered cockily in between the tables toward the stage, glaring at anyone who had any doubts as to why he was there, or who looked at him at all, for that matter. He didn't spare a glance to the discontented trio of Hermione, Ron, and Harry.

"And this year's Head _Girl_ is… Hermione Granger!"

Another applause erupted, as if on cue, as Hermione stood from the bench at her table and slowly made her way up to the stage, standing as far away from Draco as physically possible while still remaining in the spotlight and a convenient distance from which to glare.

"Students, please welcome your student leaders for this year: Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger!" Dumbledore announced grandly, receiving another round of applause. "They will be your go-to representatives for any of your problems. Frankly, they will be more like _chiefs_ of the school. _Messiahs_ for each gender, if you will…"

Hermione tuned Dumbledore out, content that he would be singing their praises for at least another few minutes, to glare at her Head counterpart. His eyes met hers and she put on the most disgusted look she could muster.

In return, Draco only tilted his head toward her and smirked smugly, almost radiation the phrase: _Arrogant sexy asshole_.

_Sexy?_ Hermione's mind detected with disturbance. _What the name of_—

"…will briefly describe each of the Heads' interests to you before they grace us with a fifteen minute prepared speech of their own about themselves. Draco Malfoy is a very ambitious students with grades nearly of the stature to rival Ms. Granger's and the looks and charm to rival a veela. He is a Sagittarius that enjoys short walks on the beach and cozy, deserted cabins in the middle of nowhere for…"

_You just wait,_ Hermione thought angrily, distracting her thoughts from the shocking four letter word that started with 's' and ended with 'y' her mind had just used an adjective in relation to Draco Malfoy, _if this year will the biggest hell there ever was and will be in the following years to come for me… then I'm taking you down with me, ferret._

* * *

"And these are your quarters," Dumbledore motioned to a portrait of a boy dressed in green and a girl dressed in read holding hands. "Your password will be 'friends forever and ever.' Should either of you desire to change the password to 'green royal dragon' or 'Harry rocks my socks,' for example, then you will need to inform the other of such a change so that one of you will not be locked out from your room."

Hermione and Draco instantly exchanged a look, suggesting that consideration was not on the menu for them within the near future, before Draco's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he turned back to the headmaster.

"Wait, Professor, did you say our… _room?_ In singular form?" he asked cautiously while Hermione gained a horrified expression at such a notion as well.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid so," Dumbledore nodded with an indecipherable twinkle in his eye. "The other professors and I talked about the matter, upon reaching a decision that the two of you would be best for the position of Head Boy and Girl, and we came across a dilemma. Since friendship and tolerance of each other is _crucial_ to successfully leading the school and performing well in the position, the professors and I agree that you two would be required to share a room as a consequence of the animosity that so famously continued for years between you."

Hermione and Draco looked bewildered.

"Not only will you be required to share a room," Dumbledore began, causing them both to flinch at the thought that there was more, "but you also have to share a bed and will have to fasten yourself to the bed on top of one another when you sleep. Buckles will be provided."

Hermione and Draco's mouths dropped open simultaneously. For moments, neither of them was able to say a word. Finally, Draco gained back his voice.

"A-Are you serious?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly yet decisively. "The faculty and I think that at least with these arrangements, there is a chance of the two of you getting along and genuinely getting closer."

Sighing miserably, Hermione pulled on the arm of a still shocked Draco. "Come on, Malfoy. Rules are rules."

His shoulders slumped in defeat as he followed Hermione into the intimate one-room Head quarters. "I know."

Neither of them saw the new twinkle that emerged in Dumbledore's eyes before he turned and walked down the hall, content that he had brought two more students together, confident that they could put their differences aside with the right kind of persuasion.

* * *

"Granger, will you stop moving?"

"Excuse _me_, Malfoy, but you're the one that's not giving me any room," Hermione grumbled, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Granger, I am _so_ serious. Stop that moving."

"Malfoy, I am on _top_ of you. Don't you think I should at least try to get comfortab—Oh, my God. What is _that_?"

Draco looked to the side, studying the funky-looking lampshade near their bed on the night table. "What's _what_?" he asked lightly, not meeting his bedmate's eyes.

"Th-_that_," Hermione replied cautiously, moving her thigh against it. Draco gasped and their eyes finally locked. "See? You know what I'm talking about."

"Well… Bloody hell, Granger. _Duh_," he rasped out in frustration as she wouldn't stop moving. "I… I… _That_ is what you do to me. You might as well know it since… well, since you're going to figure it out some time in the next few minutes. I've been hot for you since _first year_. This is what you do to me every time I see you and—Oh, would you stop that wiggling, woman, or do you want to experience something new while I'm divulging my deep feelings for you and you're being frightened out of your mind?"

Hermione thought about it. "Sorry." She stopped wiggling.

"I want you, Granger… _Hermione_. I must have you," he whispered into her ear and she shivered involuntarily. "I've wanted you for so long. And I know you've wanted me. I know what those looks that you sent me mean because I sent them too."

Hermione's brows furrowed. "You mean the death glares?"

"Yes," Draco breathed.

"Oh," she nodded, confused. "Eh… I guess… Okay, you're right. I've wanted you desperately for you as well."

Taking that as the go-ahead sign, Draco sealed her lips with his in a passionate, tongue-twisting admission of their love for each other.

"Wait," Hermione exhaled as she broke their lip-lock. "No, no, Draco this is wrong."

"Of course it's not wrong," Draco whispered in return before connecting his lips to her neck in sporadic kisses. "Why else… would we… be buckled to a bed… together?"

Eyes searching the light rays emitting from the table lamp for some kind of sign that they should stop, she turned toward the blond beneath her on the bed and brought his mouth back to hers after she received no sign.

"Draco," she whispered hoarsely.

"Hermione, I love you," he declared, eyes widening at his own admission before pressing a kiss to her lips. "I always have. I guess… I guess I just denied it."

"Me too," she agreed, kissing him back. "I mean, I love you. I love you, too."

Reaching over blindly with one hand, Draco fumbled to find his wand, before turning the lamp off and tossing his wand on the floor, wherever it may land.

Love conquers all.


End file.
